Do you have a room for . . . Superman?

Many pro athletes check in under fake names when traveling

It is Damon Jones' responsibility, as the Heat's starting point guard, to protect the ball. But that's not all the 28-year-old guards carefully.

He won't turn over his aliases either.

"I can't give you any of them," Jones said, smiling. "I keep them in the rotation. I don't throw any away."

Prominent athletes, like movie stars, are celebrities. So it might not surprise you that current or former All-Stars such as Shaquille O'Neal, Alonzo Mourning, Dwyane Wade, Steve Smith and Eddie Jones commonly check in under pseudonyms when traveling with the Heat, as they are Thursday at the Ritz-Carlton in Washington, D.C.

Smith calls his aliases "sacred," even though he goes through about three per year. Eddie Jones uses "the same one all the time, and people will never get it. The only person who knows is my wife ... well, and a few other people." Tim Hardaway, a five-time All-Star, often went by Speedy Gonzalez.

Still, an athlete -- like Damon Jones, playing for his ninth NBA team in seven years -- doesn't have to be a household name to feel the need to use a fake name to protect his privacy. And his sleep.

After all, the public can, and does, easily discover where a visiting team is staying.

"You wouldn't believe how often it happens," Heat radio analyst and former NBA player John Crotty said. "People calling you at all hours saying you stink, or they know so-and-so and, oh, can they have tickets?"

During his NBA career, Crotty would use the name T. Devil, short for his nickname Tasmanian Devil. This would lead to some amusing situations, such as when room service would call up for "Mr. De-ville."

It's not just basketball players either. Bill Beck, traveling secretary for the Marlins, says about 25 percent of each season's roster will regularly use pseudonyms. Carlos Delgado, who was the Toronto Blue Jays' biggest star before joining the Marlins this winter, has used "a couple of different names" for the last six years. New York Mets outfielder Cliff Floyd calls the alias he has used "forever" a necessity.

"People tend to forget we need our rest too," Floyd said. "It's amazing how easy it is to get in touch. It's ridiculous. The majority of it is people waking you up at 8 in the morning. They hang up. Just so they can say they heard your voice."

His alias?

"You'll never figure it out."

Former major-league outfielder Warren Cromartie used Nipsy Russell for years. Numerous athletes, for some reason, have used Rick James, and do today even though he's dead.

"I always use the same one," Reds first baseman Sean Casey said. "Some of my teammates know. But some of the guys switch them every week. Like, `Who are you this week?'"

Some use more conventional methods. Hall of Fame first baseman Tony Perez simply would ask the front desk to hold his calls until late morning. Heat swingman Shandon Anderson, who does not use an alias, has a policy not to answer his hotel phone under any circumstances, because "if you know me, you'll be calling my cell phone."

Still, even though the Dolphins have security on the road, cornerback Sam Madison doesn't blame teammates for using aliases.

"A few years ago in Buffalo, someone sent brownies full of Ex-Lax to one of the players," Madison said.

Aliases are so commonplace that Lakers guard Kobe Bryant lost credibility with the Sacramento Kings when he apparently didn't use one. During a 2002 playoff series against the Kings, Bryant claimed he had been the victim of intentional food poisoning at the Sacramento Hyatt.

"If Kobe was under Kobe Bryant at the hotel, he needed to get food poisoning," Kings guard Bobby Jackson said at the time. "I'm no big-time guy like that, but I even have an alias for security purposes."

Jackson said he used the names of friends but noted how teammates had used everything from Fred Flintstone to Superman to Bugs Bunny to Zorro.

Most would be better choices than the name Falcons quarterback Michael Vick allegedly assumed. In March, a woman filed a civil lawsuit against Vick, claiming that he had infected her with herpes, and that he had sought medical attention as "Ron Mexico." This caused the NFL to stop the sale of Falcons' No. 7 jerseys with a personalized "Mexico" on the back -- an NFL spokesman said only a handful of orders had been placed, and none filled. This episode also upset the real Ron Mexico, an auto parts supplier in Brighton, Mich., who wondered why Vick couldn't have selected Bob Smith or Jim Johnson.